


No Fun Allowed

by ugandadistrict9



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon-typical language, Crack, Drabble, M/M, i have nothing to tag this, these two are such a married couple, this isnt really shippy but it was written w grimmons in mind bc i love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7732909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ugandadistrict9/pseuds/ugandadistrict9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’ve been so ‘all work, no play’ lately, and it goes against my motto. My motto is: I don't do work. Can't you see how against this that is? You people have no respect for my morals and values!”</p><p>“What the fuck are you talking about?” Simmons sat down beside Grif, taking his helmet off. “‘All work, no play’? We haven't done anything at all in days!”</p><p>“I know, and I'm exhausted. It's boring. We never have any fun.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Fun Allowed

**Author's Note:**

> more of the drabbles i wrote back in june. grif and simmons being goofs (w/ bonus blue team at the end) enjoy.

“Grif,” a voice said from somewhere far away, causing the young man to stir from his slumber. He shifted. The voice seemed to get louder and closer. He knew he recognized it, but he just didn't give enough of a crap to put a name to the voice.

 

He opened his eyes to the same dim light he had fallen asleep to, trying to blink away the sleep haze.

 

“Grif, it’s time to get up!”

 

“Ugh-ghghghghhhhhhh….” Grif rolled over onto his back, squinting up at the soldier who stood above his cot. Upon recognizing the figure, he groaned. “What do you want?”

 

“I said, get your ass up.”

 

“Why….” Grif yawned. “What’s the _point_ , Simmons?”

 

“It’s morning, that’s why.”

 

“You didn't answer my thing about the point. Because there is no point. I don't care if it's ‘morning’, the sun never even sets here. It's always the same time of the day, which means it's always night time if you ask me. Always sleep time. Now go away.”

 

“I don’t know if you forgot, but we’re kind of at war, here. That's the point. Now get up, you son of a bitch.”

 

“Psh, what _ever_. War, shmar.” Grif let his eyes close again.

 

“Grif!”

 

“Go away, dipshit.”

 

“Stop being a whiny baby and get the fuck out of bed!”

 

“Simmons, you’re depriving me of my beauty sleep right now.”

 

“I don't care. You’re ugly.”

 

“See ‘this conversation’, page 1, line 12: ….whatever it was I just said. Beauty sleep. You. Depriving.” Grif swallowed the morning-flavoured saliva that was forming in his dry mouth. “Leave.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“Ditto.”

 

“You're a douchebag.”

 

“Likewise.”

 

When Simmons still refused to leave, Grif sat up on his bed, huffing. “Okay, look, we’ve been so ‘all work, no play’ lately. That goes against my motto. My motto is: I don't do work. Can't you see how against this that is? You people have no respect for my morals and values!”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Simmons sat down beside Grif, taking his helmet off. “‘All work, no play’?? We haven't done anything at all in days!”

 

“I know, and I'm exhausted. It's boring. We never have any fun.”

 

“What exactly constitutes as ‘fun’? All you do is sleep.”

 

“Hey, that's not true! I nap sometimes!”

 

Simmons rolled his eyes.

 

Grif ignored his contemporary’s obvious unamusement. “The point is, I’m not getting up and working today. You can join me if you want, Simmons. You and I can have some serious fun here today.”

 

Simmons shifted uncomfortably. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Grif raised an eyebrow.

 

“Here?” Simmons asked awkwardly.

 

“Here.”

 

“In your bed?”

 

“No, not in-- Wait, what kind of fun are you thinking of? Gross! I mean, _bow chicka bow wow_ , but, I was talking about-”

 

“Please never say ‘bow chicka bow wow’ ever again.”

 

“Trust me, I won’t,” Grif grimaced. “The second it came out of my mouth I wanted to die. God. It only works when Tucker says it …. Ugh, I just complimented Tucker. Now I double want to kill myself. Where's the bleach?”

 

“Anyway,” Simmons said, clearing his throat, “what was that about the ‘serious fun’?”

 

Grif paused, frowning. “Come to think of it, I didn’t really have any ideas. I was gonna ask you that.”

 

“Why are you asking me? Your idea of fun won’t match my idea of fun.”

 

“Mmmnnnn, yeah you’re right. Fuck. Maybe we should go with the bow chicka bow wow thing-- ow! Kidding, I’m kidding, jeez, you didn’t have to punch me! I’m not wearing armour, for Christ’s sake, you bitch!” Grif rubbed his arm where Simmons had swatted him. “This is exactly what I mean when I say no one knows how to have fun around here. Fuckin’ hitting me with your fuckin’ armour on, you fuckin’…”

 

“You don't seem to know how, either, you just said you had no ideas.”

 

“Well, that's because I don't have any ideas! I just said we need to do something fun.”

 

“But there's nothing fun to do! Well, nothing for you to find fun at least.”

 

“Why, what do you find fun,” Grif scoffed, “math problems?”

 

“How did you know?”

 

“Ugh, _ew_. You literally just ruined my entire day.” The brunette flopped back down onto his back. “See, Simmons, you're boring, okay? I’m not boring--”

 

“You seem pretty boring to me,” Simmons interrupted. “I mean, all you do is sleep. Like, all day.”

 

“Not today, apparently,” Grif interjected, glaring daggers up at Simmons. “ _Someone_ ’s not letting me.”

 

“I'm saving you from your boring daily life. Be thankful.”

 

“Simmons, I'm bored _because_ I'm awake. When you're asleep you don't get that boredom problem. You're too busy being asleep. You also can't be annoying when you're asleep. You should really try it sometime.”

 

“It's annoying if you snore when you sleep.”

 

“Was--was that a jab at me?” Grif sat up, pointing an accusatory finger at Simmons’ face. “I do not snore.”

 

“Tell it to the judge, bitch! You sound like the engine on the Warthog! Only louder.”

 

“Do not!”

 

“Do too!”

 

“Do not!”

 

“Do too!! You seriously do!” Simmons protested. “Even ask Donut!”

 

“You know…” Grif said, suddenly sounding completely apathetic, despite having a strong opinion on the topic just milliseconds previous. “I'd rather just take your word for it at that point. Talking to Donut is _not_ in my job description. I try to do as little of that as possible.”

 

Simmons snorted. “I relate to that.” He leaned back, laying down sideways on Grif’s bed with his legs over the side, as Grif had been before. His one foot was on the floor, and the other, curled at the knee, up on the bed.

 

Grif soon joined him.

 

Simmons stared up at the base’s ceiling.

 

Grif closed his eyes, savouring the bliss of quiet rest.

 

During silences, Grif liked to turn off his brain, but the silence always made Simmons think. He glanced over at his teammate. He looked peaceful like this; it almost made Simmons regret calling him lazy. He wanted to say something to him, but he also wanted to let him be.

 

“What's on your mind, Simmons?” Grif hummed, as if he could hear Simmons’ thoughts, and they were an annoyance.

 

“Huh? Nothing, really, just … this is nice.”

 

“Comfy?” Grif tried to stifle his smile, but Simmons could see it.

 

“Ehh.”

 

“If you took your armour off, it'd probably be a lot comfier, dumbass. Wait, no, fuck, no, don't you dare say it, Simmons--”

 

“Bow chicka bow wow!”

 

 

**_Meanwhile, at blue base…_ **

 

 

“Ugh, there it is again! Church, I’m telling you, man, something is up!”

 

“Tucker, what are you talking about?”

 

“I’ve been getting these bad feelings all day. Something’s going on at Red base. I’m sure of it.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I dunno, but I can feel it in my gut. Something’s going on over there.”

 

“Well, is it important?”

 

“It’s triggering my sixth sense. Meaning it has to do with… dirty jokes… Yeah, it’s pretty important,” Tucker concluded.

 

Church groaned. “Your sixth sense.”

 

“My bow chicka bow wow sense. I know when I’m needed, Church. But someone else has been stealing my job… heeding my calls… _bow_ ing my _chicka bow wow_ s--”

 

“Bye.”


End file.
